Silence and Hope
by Slash McSlash
Summary: Even in the darkness of loss and war, Sirius refuses to give up hope. Because a man cannot live without hope. Slash RLSB, features femslash. My first fic.


Silence and Hope

by

Norikio Na No Da

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

_Six Months Ago _

The silence was screaming in Sirius's ears so loudly that he might have clapped his hands to his ears to block it out if they weren't both otherwise occupied. One was busy clutching his wand in a white-knuckled grip, and the other grasped the hand of his best friend and long-time lover, Remus Lupin. The sensation of the other man's long, willowy fingers laced between his own comforted him immensely.

Across the darkened room, Marlene McKinnon stood with her own wand in hand and her body tense and still. She bobbed her head towards them, her dark eyes conveying a silent message of encouragement. She was, after all, leading the attack on the Death Eaters that night, and therefore it was her responsibility to encourage her fellow Order members. Not only that, but she was an old friend of Sirius's, and knew perfectly well how, despite his cool and unaffected front, he was terrified of these missions.

And indeed, was he terrified. You wouldn't know it at a first glance, but upon closer inspection of the rigidity of his frame, the intensity in his otherwise relaxed gaze and the fervor with which he clutched his lover's hand, you could see how affected he really was.

Standing close behind him, Remus allowed a concerned frown to slip across his features, and he gave Sirius's hand a comforting squeeze. Sirius didn't turn to look at him, and remained stock still, but the tightening of his fingers around Remus's spoke louder than words ever possibly could. His shoulders slackened just a bit, and behind him, Remus's frown softened into a gentle smile.

The tenderness of the exchange was immediately forgotten as the closed door several yards away from where they stood was viciously blasted away. The explosion threw an unlucky few of the Order members to the floor, and those closest enough were sprayed by splinters and debris. Before anyone could regain their equilibrium, however, the room was suddenly flooded with Death Eaters, and the air was filled with the flashes of hostile curses and hexes.

At some point in the initial confusion, Sirius's hand had lost Remus's. Really, it was just as well, because not even the greatest wizards could duel one-handedly, while attached by the other to their lover. All the same, as Sirius dodged about the dark room, throwing and countering and blocking the assaults of the Death Eaters, he couldn't help frantically searching the familiar and unfamiliar heads for that of his Remus.

His thoughts were momentarily jerked away from the tawny-haired lycanthrope and to self-preservation, however, as a curse grazed his arm, taking a bit of his sleeve with it in passing. _Too close for comfort,_ he thought, ducking and spinning and discharging a counter attack at his assailant in one smooth motion. The hooded Death Eater was thrown against the wall by the force of the spell and slid to the floor, still.

The battle raged on for only minutes, despite what the survivors would later claim. They would declare, over bottles of firewhiskey, in the comforts of a warm pub, that their valorous fight against evil had lasted from sunset to sunup. Of course, it took a fraction of an hour before a good number of the Order members and Death Eaters lay dead among the debris.

Dark, heavily made-up eyelashes fluttered slowly open as Marlene regained her senses. A pained groan passed her lips as her hand went to the growing lump on the back of her head, courtesy of a fallen chunk of the ceiling. Her memory gradually pieced itself back together. At some point during the fight, the load-bearing pillar in the center of the room had taken one stray spell too many and had collapsed—and with it, much of the area.

What remained resembled a war zone.

Order members were sifting through the debris, shifting slabs of the stone wall out of the way to get to the poor souls trapped, breathing or not, underneath. Groans and sobs and cries for help filled the air. There were also Death Eaters among the wounded and deceased, but the medics were understandably, if a bit cruelly, not holding them as a priority for the time being, and were instead tending to the Order members.

It appeared as though the Order had won the battle.

_But look at all that we've lost,_ thought Marlene bitterly, as she surveyed the chaos.

But suddenly, among the voices, one in particular caught her attention.

"R-Remus! Remus! _Answer me, Moony!_"

A tightening at her chest told her one thing for certain; that Sirius was alive. But by the tone of his voice, she could not tell if either Sirius could not find his lover, or if he had, but as yet another casualty among many. Silently praying that it would not be the latter, she turned.

& & &

"R-Remus! Remus! ANSWER ME, MOONY!"

His hands were gashed and slick with blood, the skin of his knuckles torn away and throbbing, but he refused to relent, refused to ease up in his searching until his Remus was safe, warm, _alive_ in his arms. He wasn't aware that his heavy panting breaths had become broken sobs, or that his anguished cries had seized the attention of everyone in the room. All he could think of was that no one had found any survivors matching Remus's description. But there was still hope. There was always hope.

"Sirius?"

He didn't acknowledge the timid voice. It wasn't Moony's voice. It didn't matter.

"S-Sirius…"

Still the lycanthrope was nowhere to be seen. But there was still hope. There was always hope.

"Sirius, it's me. It's Marlene."

If there was no hope, he knew Remus was gone forever. So there had to be hope. Because if there was no hope, he would die. Simple as that.

"Please look at me Sirius."

Still hope.

"Sirius! Snap out of it!"

There were hands at his arms, rattling him back and forth. His tear-filled eyes focused on the concerned, dark features of the woman's face before him.

_Not Moony's face._

"Sirius? Do you recognize me?"

He stared, unaware that his body was trembling, his chest heaving with stifled sobs. Slowly, acknowledgement dawned on his own bloody features. "M…Marlene?"

She let out a relieved breath and pulled him into an embrace. He was unresponsive in her arms, but she didn't care. "Yeah, it's me, Sirius. Just take a deep breath…it's all going to be alright."

Suddenly, it seemed, Sirius jumped, wrenching himself from her arms, and placing his hands on her shoulders, as if to shake her. "Marlene, have you found Remus?" he asked, the pleading in his eyes and the hoarseness of his voice nearly breaking the toughened woman's heart. She bit her lip.

"I…I'm sorry, Sirius…no…"

The change that came over him was so sudden that she stumbled back in surprise. "REMUS! REMUS LUPIN!" he roared. His eyes were blazing angrily, as if he had been unrightfully accused of a crime, and suddenly Marlene was afraid. "SKINNY GUY, BROWN HAIR, BROWN EYES—RINGING ANY BELLS?!"

"I know who he is, Sirius! We went to Hogwarts together!" she said, hoping to break through his confusion before he got even more hysterical. "We're looking for him, Sirius, so calm down!"

He stared at her, uncomprehending, silent, for a long moment, before he suddenly turned on his heel. _"REM!" _he cried, lurching forwards—and suddenly he was falling. Marlene leaped to grab him, and managed to catch him so that he instead fell back onto her. It took her a moment to regain her bearings, and when she did, she found that the dark-haired man was lying on top of her, clinging to her as if she were a comfort blanket, and sobbing into her shoulder like a frightened child.

Most women would leap at the opportunity to have Sirius Black lying on top of them, but Marlene knew that no woman would ever mean nearly as much to the man as one Remus Lupin did. And so she felt no shame in putting her arms around the crying man, or stroking his hair, slick with blood, or telling him that it would all be alright. And when her own lover, Dorcas Meadowes, ran over to help them up, Marlene shook her head silently and continued to whisper comforting nothings to the distraught man.

_Oh God oh God oh God if there is a God._

_Don't take him away from me. Please. Please. Please._

_Please don't take away my hope. He's everything. He's all I got._

_God, no, don't take him too._

_Not him too…_

…

…_Please…_

_& & & _

_Two Months Ago _

"I thought it was a lovely eulogy."

"Oh, yes. The whole service was beautiful."

"But sad."

"Of course, sad."

"Did you see the dark-haired fellow who threw dirt into the grave?"

"You mean the handsome one? Yes. Who was he?"

"I heard that he was the lover."

"The lover? But…but he's a…"

"A man. I know. But he was the lover."

"He was awfully stoic, though, wasn't he? Didn't say a word."

"He must be terribly distraught."

"Poor dear…"

The voices were merely two among many, discussing the funeral of Remus John Lupin and the stoicism of his silent lover. They were hushed voices, but one couldn't walk through a crowd without hearing the name "Sirius Black" thrown about. It seemed that only two women weren't doing any gossiping, and they were walking up towards the graveyard together, hand-in-hand.

"These people have a lot of nerve," Dorcas Meadowes muttered under her breath, voice hoarse with a combination of depression and anger.

"I know," Marlene said quietly. Their holds on each other's hands tightened.

The silhouette of a man standing beside a headstone in the graveyard was becoming more distinct as the sun sunk further beyond the horizon. His hands were in his pockets and his hair, pulled into a short ponytail, was being tossed by the chilly breeze. He was staring at the grave, unmoving.

"He's still there."

"I know."

There was a small sniffle, and Marlene glanced up at her blond lover. Her black eyes softened sadly.

"Cassie…"

"It's not fair."

"I know." It was becoming a mantra, meaningless but soothing.

When they reached the top of the hill where Sirius was standing, they hung back a little, watching him worriedly. He was perfectly still, and his expression was unreadable, grey eyes as impenetrable as fog. They remained standing there, silent as the grave itself, until all that was left of daylight was a sliver of reddish-gold glowing on the distant horizon. And just as the two women were about to leave, Sirius's voice, steady, quiet, controlled, broke the heavy silence.

"I won't give up hope."

"Sirius…" Marlene released her hold on Dorcas, who was wiping her eyes furiously, to approach the man. "Sirius…he's dead, Sirius. Dumbledore said—"

"Dumbledore gave up hope," Sirius said darkly. "They all did. I won't. I won't until I see his body—until I _know_ he's dead. Until then, I won't give up."

Marlene gently touched his arm, smiling comfortingly. "Why don't you take a vacation, Sirius? I think you could use one. We all could, in fact."

Slowly, he turned his gaze to her. There was more wisdom and clarity in his eyes than Marlene could imagine anyone ever having at their own lover's funeral.

"Don't worry about me, Marlene. There's someone else you should be worrying about." He nodded in Dorcas's direction. The tall blond was embarrassedly trying to scrub away her tears. "While you can. Don't let anyone take her away." He gave Marlene a sad smile, pulled her into a brief hug, and then turned and started down the hill.

Marlene watched him go, her eyes filled with awe. She felt arms slide around her shoulders, and Dorcas resting her head tenderly in the crook of her neck. The smaller woman lifted her own hands to hold onto the comforting arms and sighed.

"I don't know whether to feel sorry for _him_, or for _us_," she breathed sadly.

"Don't feel sorry for us," Dorcas said, kissing the top of Marlene's head. "I don't."

"No…" Marlene paused, and then allowed a weak, grateful smile to pass over her lips. "I don't either."

& & &

_One Month Ago _

_Even now, as I crouch in wait outside of the doors of the alleged Death Eater hideout, fingers tense on my wand as they had been on that fateful day five months ago, I have not given up hope. His parents gave up on him—hence the funeral. Dumbledore, one of the most steadfast, determined men I'll ever know, gave up on him. Even Marlene and Dorcas, our two oldest surviving friends, have lost hope. But I refuse. To give up hope would be to give up Moony, and I am not prepared to do that. I will never be prepared to do that._

_James and Lily and Peter are all dead…I've seen their bodies, and it broke my heart. The best friends of my life, three such beautiful people…dead. But whenever I cried, Moony was there. Whenever I screamed, Moony understood. The several times I came close to the edge, he would pull me back again and into warm arms. I knew it broke his heart too…but he was strong. For me. He would tell me…"We'll remember them for all our lives. And when Harry is old enough, we'll tell him, too, about his Mum and his Dad and his Uncle Wormtail. As long as we remember them, they'll never be gone."_

_I never understood. I thought I did, but what I thought then I know now was nothing. Now I know—to forget is to betray. And I will never betray James or Lily or Peter. And as long as there is a shred of possibility that Remus is alive, I will live for him, to find him, and bring him home. And if he's…if he's really dead…_

_I'll die. Because a human being can't live without hope._

The soft press of fingers against the material of my cloak drew me out of my reverie and into the present. I blinked back over my shoulder at the hazy figure of another Order member. Hazy through tears.

Damn, I thought furiously, brushing the heel of my palm over my eyes in a vain attempt to smear away the trails of salty wetness there. I had no business crying here, on a mission, and putting my fellow Order members at risk. I wouldn't let what happened to Moony those long months ago happen again. There is only a certain number of people one man can live in honor of before he breaks down completely.

"Alright, Sirius?" the hazy form inquired gently. I recognized the voice of Fenwick, and I nodded dismissively, before turning back to the task at hand.

The bell tolled for midnight, and I heard the collective hiss of the Order's breaths being sucked in from anticipation. Behind the bushes where I crouched next to Fenwick and a couple of other members, we waited, tense, terrified, determined.

And the door of the old chapel creaked ominously open, and out stepped a cloaked figure.

As planned, I edged in utter silence to the edge of the bushes, where they met with the wall, and stepped out with my wand at the ready, pressing it with fluid ease to the shadowed temple of the Death Eater. "Be silent and still," I hissed, and the body tensed up, the head bobbing up and down hastily, eager to appease. I pulled the figure back into the bushes silently and pushed it into the waiting arms of Fenwick and the lot.

After stripping the Death Eater of his—for it turned out the be a man—cloak, I pulled the dark material over my head and stepped out of the bushes once more, looking for all the world a follower of Voldemort. With a nod to my hidden comrades, I slipped in through the open door of the chapel-turned-base and made my way within.

The place was swarmed with Death Eaters, all sliding about like wraiths and speaking in low tones. No one gave me a second glance, and I spared them none myself. However proud I was of my camouflage skills, I had a mission: to lead the raid to rescue the POWs captured in the last battle, a week ago. Back at the Order, Marlene had determined that they would be held in the secret crypt beneath the church. Once I was there, I was to send out a message to the other Order members outside, whereupon they would swarm the church.

A guard stood at the top of the stairwell that would lead to the POW prison, but he was a fool, and with ease I convinced him that I was there to interrogate one of the prisoners. The one at the bottom of the stairwell I took out with an efficient, and if-I-do-say-so, satisfying, blow to the head. I was in the crypt.

As expected, it smelled like death. But it wasn't the dusty, long-ages-past death that lingered in dark crypts. It was the horrifying stench of fresh death, the undeserved death of suffering innocents. The chamber was lit with torches along the walls, and the ceiling was low, covered in grime. The POWs—and there had to be about one hundred of them—were all behind bars, cramped cages set up crudely by use of magic. They were thin, and sick-looking, bloodied and beaten, looking at me through sunken eyes filled with sadness…fear…_hatred_…

And I suddenly hated myself. I flipped down the hood of the cloak, and felt the tightness in my chest ease as a good number of those hate-filled eyes blinked into shock, recognition, then amazement and relief. They knew me, as I knew them.

I assured them, or some of them, that the others were here to free them, and they passed it around to the others in hushed tones. Flicking back the sleeves of my cloak, I tapped the end of my wand, and whispered the words I was instructed to use…

There was a bright red spark, like flint being scraped, and then silence. Then another spark, this one blue, and then the explosion of the chapel doors up above our heads. The mission was in full-throw.

Grinning in triumph, I threw myself to work at unlocking the cages. It was easy work—they were crudely made, and I was advanced in such things. No one had come down to the crypt yet, but I worked frantically, throwing open the doors and helping the lot to tumble out. They were like unleashed beasts, ferocious and triumphant in their newfound freedom, roaring for victory as they thronged up the stairs to help the effort. I knew some of them would die, but the others would live, and fight, and go home that night.

Only those who were too weak to fight, or injured, or dead, remained, huddled on the floor for warmth and praying. I stood there, hood down, and surveyed them sadly.

A tug at the hem of my cloak seized my attention, and I whirled about to see a pair of sunken, fever-bright blue eyes staring up at me from a filthy, thin face, below matted, shaggy red hair. I stared at the dirty face for a long few moments before it clicked in my brain. I dropped down on my knees beside him. "Fabian Prewett?" I asked.

He nodded weakly, with a cough. I recognized him as the twin brother of Gideon Prewett and the little brother of Molly Weasley. Both had been in a terrible state since he'd gone missing two weeks ago, before even the last battle. But he looked to be in one piece, and I smiled inwardly at the thought that the family would be reunited. But somewhere deeper in my chest my heart constricted in something like painful envy. That was more than some would have…

More than likely, myself…

I pushed thoughts of my lover out of my mind and used the sleeve of my cloak to wipe away some of the dust on Fabian's face. The trademark red freckles resurfaced gradually.

"You alright?" I asked.

"Bit ill, busted ankle, but alright," he said hoarsely. "You're…you're Black, right? Sirius Black?"

"My reputation precedes me," I said with a weak grin, to soothe him. "Hold still, Prewett. Everyone's upstairs, your brother included, 'less I'm much mistaken, to bring you home."

He shook his head and gripped my wrist urgently. "More important things, Sirius."

"What d'you mean?"

The blue eyes gleamed at me from beneath the dirt and dust. And the most beautiful two syllables imaginable dropped from his cracked and bleeding lips.

"Lupin."

Then his head moved out of the way, and I saw him.

A frail form curled into a fetal position on his side, a thin cloak draped over him for warmth, dirty—but still, to me, beautiful—light brown hair a scruffy mess, head turned away from me. One pale arm stretched out on the floor before him, pale fingers lax. And the familiar glint of the plain golden band on one of the fingers…the ring that held our promises to each other…the ring that matched the silver one on my own finger perfectly, save for color…

Fabian forgotten, I dashed over. My heart throbbed painfully from excitement and fear as I dropped to my knees beside the motionless form, and reached to touch the thin shoulder beneath the cloak.

I felt warmth. It was unnatural warmth, from fever no doubt, but it wasn't the earth-shattering coldness I had feared would meet my fingers.

Remus…my Moony was alive.

I turned him over gently with shaking fingers, my breath short and my eyes wide, and let out an indescribable sound when I saw his unconscious face. He had always been slight of frame, but he was even thinner now, and his normally smooth, clean face was darkened by dirt and slight traces of stubble. The eyes were closed, but the dark half-moons below them told of sleepless nights and illness. There were a couple of new scars, too, and absently I wondered what had happened on those full moons he had been gone, but that didn't matter now.

I didn't notice as the other Order members spilled into the crypt, cheering for victory. I didn't notice as Gideon Prewett saw his brother and ran to sweep him into a powerful embrace. I was busy pulling the too-frail form of my unconscious lover, MIA for the most agonizing half-year of my life, into my arms, and pressing desperate kisses to his face as the agony and hope and despair and prayer of the last five months manifested themselves as tears down my own.

"Sirius?" a timid voice asked at my side. I was reminded of that day five months ago when Marlene had held me in her arms and let me cry, but it wasn't Marlene. I don't know who it was. I didn't care. But they obviously mistook my sobs of relief for mourning.

"He's alive." My voice was shockingly hoarse through my tears. Their eyes, whoever "they" were, widened in surprise, and they hurried off to get a medic, presumably.

I looked back to the tired face of my lover and felt a jolt run through my frame when I found those long-missed copper eyes gazing up at me from below heavy eyelids.

"Sirius…" If I thought _my_ voice was hoarse, it was nothing compared to his.

"Shh…" I murmured through my tears. I clutched him to my chest with one arm while I gently stroked back his pale brown hair with my free hand. A good deal more silver had intermingled with the brown since I had last seen him. I would tease him about that later, maybe when we were in bed together at home, after making love, I mused. "Go to sleep, Moony."

I don't know if he fully comprehended everything that was happening, but he gave a weak nod of his head anyway. "Be here…when I wake up…?" he rasped shakily.

I kissed his forehead.

"Be here always."

& & &

_Present _

_Six months have passed since this whole ordeal began. Five months have passed since I was captured. One month has passed since I was found again. And ten minutes have passed since my last rejuvenating bout of love-making with Sirius…_

Remus smirked slightly as he lifted the tip of his quill away from the notebook paper. "How's _that_ for therapeutic?" he muttered, before tossing them both aside on the bed-side table. Since he'd been back, the psychiatrist that Marlene had insisted he go to had been making him write his thoughts and feelings out in a notebook. Marlene was well-meaning and all—a "fuss-budget nanny goat" as Sirius liked to call her—but Remus had always preferred reading books to writing them. Just as he had always preferred listening to Sirius complain than complaining himself.

As if on cue, his dark-haired lover leaned his head out of the bathroom door. "You still writing in that stupid thing?" he asked wryly, spotting the open notebook and quill.

"Hardly," Remus said, smiling.

"It's a wonder you do it at _all._ Marlene doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Sirius! She's only trying to help."

Sirius snorted and strode over to the bed, tying back his hair as he did. "I don't know why Cass puts up with her."

Scolding dying on his lips, Remus sighed and reached out to pull the gorgeous man down, so he landed on the springy mattress in front of him. "Probably the same reason _I_ put up with _you,_ you prat."

Sirius smirked and lifted an aristocratic eyebrow. "Because I'm a master in the bedroom?"

The lycanthrope rolled his eyes. "_NO._" He sighed. "Because—"

He was cut off by a pair of lips connecting with his own. Sirius slowly drew away and grinned mischievously. "Because?"

Another sigh, and Remus felt his frustration dissipate. "Because you can do _that._"

Silvery-grey eyes blinked at him. "Do _what?_"

"Make me love you, however prattish you are." He slid his arms around Sirius's waist, now clothed by sweat-pants, where his upper-body was sparsely covered by a plain white t-shirt. They were off duty today, and likely to remain off-duty for the next month, on vacation as well as "medical-leave" for Remus. He was still trying to regain the weight he had lost in that time he'd been a POW, and his body was subsequently weak, but other than that, he was perfectly recovered.

Sirius was still a "fuss-budget" to challenge Marlene's legendary fuss-budgetry, though, insisting that his lover sleep late and go to bed early—though they often were kept busy late into the night—and basically rest to the point of losing his mind. While it was nice to be waited on hand-and-foot, Remus was going a bit nuts, practically confined to his bed.

Strong, lean arms draped down over his shoulders, and from where his head was pressed to Sirius's collarbone, Remus's nose was tickled by those long, fragrant strands of black hair. He sighed happily.

"You know, I…" Sirius said, low voice humming in his chest against Remus' ear, "…I love you, too, Rem." His voice sounded oddly strained. "And I swear…I don't know what I would've…_could_ have done, if you…if we hadn't…" The words trailed off, and the arms around his neck moved down to his back, pulling the slightly-smaller man tighter to his chest.

Remus blinked, and gently moved out of the embrace to meet those mesmerizing silvery eyes, startled to find tears brimming in them. "Oh, Siri," he breathed, leaning up to brush his lips against his lover's. "Looks like I'm not the only one two needs some TLC." He kissed him again, longer this time, pulled away, and smiled.

Sirius matched the smile, the tears fading away gradually. "Tender Lycanthropic Coddling?"

"Tender Loving Care," Remus corrected him, grin not faltering. He pushed Sirius down onto the pillows gently.

The dark-haired man's smile widened. "Again? Moony, you're incorrigible."

Copper eyes rolled, and Remus sat up and moved off of the bed. "I'm just going to make you breakfast."

Sirius reached to grab his wrist and stop him, but missed by an inch. "No, Moony," he said sternly, frowning. "Get back in bed. I don't want you overexerting yourself."

"Says the man who just wanted to make love for the second time this morning."

"But that's therapy!" he whined. "It's different!"

Remus tried to look disapproving, but dissolved into laughter. "How do eggs sound?"

Sirius sprung forwards to catch his lover around the middle, but Remus spun out of arms' reach, and, snickering, ran to the bedroom door. He winked at the dark-haired man and then disappeared into the hallway of the flat, presumably headed for the kitchen. Growling, Sirius hopped with some difficulty out of the bed, disentangling himself from the sheets, and scrambled after him.

He found the werewolf at the counter, already with an egg in each hand and a frying pan on the stove. He flipped one in his hand and cracked it solidly against the edge of the pan with the expertise of a man who spent a lot of time cooking. Sirius crept up quietly behind him and, as the other egg was in the air, threw his arms around Remus's middle.

"_Siri—!"_ gasped Remus, watching as the egg splattered across the kitchen floor. He sighed exasperatedly, and turned in his lover's arms to glare at him. "I hope you know, Padfoot, I'm not cleaning that up."

"No—you're not," Sirius said, furrowing his brow. "You're going back to bed, now."

"But I was going to bring you breakfast in bed," he teased.

"Moony." A warning tone.

"Come on, Sirius. I'm not an invalid."

"You _will_ be, if you don't get in bed right now!" He lifted Remus with surprising ease from beneath the arms. The werewolf's legs swung about and locked around his torso to balance himself.

"_Sirius!_ Put me down!"

"Not a chance." Smirking, Sirius turned to carry his lover back into the bedroom. Remus protested, pounding lightly on his back like a damsel in distress.

"But Padfoot, the stove is still on!"

"So?"

"_So_ I need to turn it off, or the flat might burn down, prat."

"Oh, let it burn."

_"_Sirius!"

"Or we could make some fire of our own, Moony."

"_SIRIUS!"_

Their arguing dissolved into laughter, and as the pair lay in bed in each other's arms, chatting and bickering and loving each other, ignoring the neighbors as they thumped on the walls to quiet them, Sirius inwardly thanked God for the hope that had kept him going all along.

At last, the silence was broken.

**_FIN_**

* * *

Hello, anyone who might have read this! This was my first fanfiction evah, and I really enjoyed writing it--I hope you enjoyed reading it. Of course, as I'm just starting out, I would very, very, VERY much appreciate any constructive criticism anyone has to offer! If there were any discrepancies, please let me know. But, PLEASE, no flames. Be gentle...

Oh, also, I'm aware that I kinda completely ignored what actually happened in the books, in that Peter wasn't killed and that after James and Lily are murdered, Sirius goes to Azkaban...but my muse has to have everything his way, even if it means twistin' up the story. Sorry. T-T And Marlene and Cassie sure popped up a lot, didn't they? They're actually characters from the book, but they're very barely mentioned, so I thought I'd try my paw at a little femslash. I like them, so in any future Marauder's-age fics I might write, they'll probably pop up.

Please leave a review!


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